I’m trying my hardest to insult him.
Not very successful.
He bats his eyelashes like a Hollywood starlet. “That’s the nicest compliment anyone’s ever given me. I hope you say that about me when we’re in our fifties.”
Problem is, he refuses to be insulted.
It’s fucking rude.
“We’re not gonna know each other when we’re in our fifties,” I tell him. “Matter of fact, we’re not going to know each other fifteen minutes from now.”
He shrugs. “We’ll see.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Before I can ask, he fires off with the next question.
“Next: on a scale of one to ten, how attractive do you find me?”
I snort. “What’s less than zero?”
“Take a step back.”
“You can be damn sure I’m not lying about that one, gléas.”
He takes two steps forward until we’re practically nose to nose. He’s so tall that I have to crane my neck back to meet his gaze.
“Your pupils are dilated,” he whispers to me smugly.
I grit my teeth together, aware of how hard my heart is beating.
Although that is considerably less alarming that the strange new beating I can feel between my thighs.
“So are yours,” I throw back at him.
If I expect to win the upper hand by throwing his own arousal back in his face, I’m sorely disappointed.
He owns up to it immediately.
“That’s because I find you very attractive,” he replies without the slightest trace of embarrassment. “A stone cold ten. If I were rating you on a personality scale, it’d be a very different number. Lucky for you, that comes later.”
“I… I…”
How the fuck am I supposed to react to that?
He smiles down at me. I can feel the heat waft off his body and engulf my own.
“Answer the question,” he warns me. “Or take a step back.”
My jaw hurts from how hard my teeth are grinding together. “Five.”
“Step back.”
“I—”
“Now, little liar.”
The man is fucking relentless.